


Shutterbug

by Lee_Mix



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, Identity Reveal Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:37:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lee_Mix/pseuds/Lee_Mix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We sat on the cobblestone backstreets of Paris, looking at the mossy trails left behind by years of neglect.” - After discovering their best friend's true identities, Chloe and Alya find they have a lot more in common than jaded high-school drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shutterbug

Vintage film rolled out on the oaken cobblestones, as Alya sat with her legs dangling off by the harbour walls, trying to ignore the creeping grey clouds casting shadows overhead. Her polaroid camera lay forgotten a few paces away, abandoned by her urge to capture everything mid-motion.

Marinette was Ladybug. Adrien, Chat Noir. In retrospect, it made perfect sense. How the two always skipped classes, the convenient timing–heck, Marinette didn’t even change her hairstyle when in her Ladybug-persona mode. But slap on a mask, make your steps a little longer, and nobody could tell the difference between the two. Or one. She wasn’t too sure of anything anymore.

Alya threw a chipped stone into the waters below, and watched it sink. How hadn’t she _known_ about this? Some journalist _she_ was aiming to be.

“Sulking again? Not very becoming of you, shutterbug.”

The voice made her glare. “What on Earth do you want with me, Chloe? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Busy feeling sorry for yourself, I bet.” Chloe let off a huff, and picked up the abandoned camera. “A polaroid camera? Aren’t these ancient? Surely you can afford something a little classier than this.”

“Not _all_ of us are made of the kind of money you have, jerk.” Alya stood up and swiped the camera. “And I do have a camera. I just use this one for myself.”

She stuffed the camera back into her bag and crouched down to gather the film, barely resisting the urge to scream at the blonde. After all the events of that day, what she had found out, she _really_ couldn’t handle any more scathing reminders of her friend’s dishonesty and her mediocre detective work. Least of all from a rich-poodle with a superiority complex.

“You’re upset about Marinette, right?”

Alya gave pause. “What’s it to you?”

Chloe smirked. “You seem to think you’re the only one who was lied to.”

 _Adrien._ Still, she doesn’t care. She can’t care. She _won’t_ care.“No, I don’t think that. But aren’t I allowed to be hurt by what happened today… why am I even talking about this, with you, of all people? You _hate_ Marinette, and me. Stop poking beehives, I’m not in the mood.”

Chloe blinked, taken aback. “I…” She rubbed the back of her neck, as the frosty mask slid out of her grasp, revealing the open wounds still not treated. “I’m not… poking beehives.”

Alya leaned against the metal railing, narrowing her eyes. “Then what do you want with me?”

Truth be told, Alya hadn’t always hated Chloe to the capacity she did then. Even “hate,” she thought was a strong word. Despite trying to find shortcuts with her wealth, there was something about her drive and stubborn refusal to give up that made her very much a kindred spirit. There had even been scant moments of vulnerability that had been exposed, and Chloe had been fearful of those being shared to the world. Yet, as she persisted with her torment of Marinette, that glow of kindred spirit dulled to a barely burning amber. 

But watching her again, seeing her facade of confidence and superiority vanish into a girl hesitant to share her true feelings, urged that shutterbug-nature of Alya’s to go forth and _investigate._

“I… you know what, I don’t need to listen to this. Whatever.” With a toss of glossy blond hair, Chloe turned on her heel, red-faced.

Alya sighed. “Hold on a second.” She gently grabbed her wrist. “Chloe, don’t get all huffy on me. What did you want?”

“Let go of me.”

“I have. You’re the one who’s stopped.”

Chloe looked down at her wrist, seeing Alya’s barely withstanding hold, and slumped her shoulders. “You’re… the only one I could really think to…”

“Mm?”

“Relate to this. Everything.” She gestured with her hand, her bracelets chiming as she did so. “You know how messy this all is?”

“Of _course_ I do. It’s all I’ve been able to think about all day, even through classes.” Alya ran a hand through her hair, and sat down on the sidewalk. Chloe seemed hesitant, before perching on the bare edge. “It’s not like we can tell anyone, either–we can’t exactly compromise their identities, right?”

Chloe laughed, a bitter one. “Adren already has a high profile. This would snatch away any other freedoms he has.”

Alya turned to her. “You really do care about him, don’t you?”

“Of _course_ I do. I didn’t just like a _mask,_ you know.” She tugged on the end of her ponytail. “But, it’s like… everything I knew about him has just shattered. I spent all those years being a close friend to him, and all that time feels pulled under the rug, like there was…”

“Another side we didn’t know about. Boy, I feel you.”

They shared a laugh, and Alya took her camera out of her back, pulling out the last photograph of her and Marinette before the ordeal. 

“She was one of my first friends here, you know?” Chloe didn’t say anything, but watched her with interest. “I always knew she had a crush on Adrien, but I didn’t even notice how close they’d gotten, not even as Ladybug and Chat Noir. I couldn’t even tell the similarities between them, about my _best_ friend. The best friend kept in the dark, who was _also_ a journalist.” Alya bit her lip. “That’s _pathetic,_ isn’t it?”

Chloe placed a slight hand on her shoulder, as Alya’s head hung. “Well… it’s sort of funny,” Alya felt herself ready to burst. “But they fooled even the most exclusive journalists. You were closer than anyone, really. And… you _are_ just a teenager. I’m…” Chloe flushed. “I’m sort of amazed you got as close as you did without any official reports on your side. You were just a kid with a camera focused on a story, and got closer than _anyone._ ”

A beat of silence passed, before Alya felt herself smile.

“We’re both idiots, huh?”

Chloe’s lips curved into a smile, and it was then Alya noticed… wow, she could be _really_ pretty. “Yeah, I guess. Even though you’re more than me.”

“Aren’t we a little past that?”

“Maybe. It’s entertaining, though.”

“What are you going to do tomorrow?”

Alya shrugged. “Take each day as it comes. Get used to the fact that my best friend is Ladybug. Maybe bake myself a cake and comfort-eat.” She ceased conversation, until a thought popped in her head. “What about you?”

“Most likely the same, minus the cake. I have a figure to keep up.”

Alay gripped the camera in her hand tighter, and noticed how the sun began to poke through the clouds. Vacationing shutterbugs prayed for sunny days, and none were brighter than one after a mighty storm of anger and anguish. And as Chloe sat there, surrounded by the mossy cobblestones, hair messy and smile brighter than anything in a Parisian twilight hour, nothing urged that shutterbug instinct more.

“Can…I take a picture of you?”

Chloe’s brow rose. “Huh?”

“You’re…” Alya’s gaze darted down. “I like capturing moments that mean something to me. This one is something I’d like to remember.”

Her eyebrows raised high. “Uh. You want to…” A pink blush bloomed on Chloe’s cheeks, before she cleared her throat and smiled. “…Well, it’ll be creepy if it’s just of me, so…make it of both of us.”

Alya grinned. “Sounds… good.”

A hesitant arm around her shoulders, cheeks pressed together in warmth, and Alya flushed later that night realizing that Chloe was looking at _her,_ not the lens that captured the moment. 


End file.
